


so few come and don't go

by prouvairing



Series: The Plural of Enjolras [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (probably), Child Neglect, Gen, Kid Enjolras, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairing/pseuds/prouvairing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want you to teach me how to change her diapers,” Alexandre says. He never asks: he <i>tells</i>. But then, he’d been surprised when she’d <i>asked</i> things of him, instead of <i>telling</i>, so she supposes he’s simply never heard anything different.<br/>She’s slightly puzzled at his request, at his grave, serious tone. She often has to remind herself that he’s eleven years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so few come and don't go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunbunjolras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunbunjolras/gifts).



> Sorry I had to go and make this sad.

She has been working in the Enjolras household for one week exactly, and apart from the first day – the day she was hired – no one has called her by name once.

Madame Enjolras calls her _nanny_ when she calls her at all – when she doesn’t start speaking immediately, expecting her to be on her guard and listen – and M. Enjolras is rarely ever there, so she has barely seen him.

The youngest Enjolras child is barely eight months old, so she doesn’t call her nanny anything. The child’s name is Aurelie and she’s by far the most cheerful component of the household – all rosy cheeks and dimpled smiles and thin blonde tufts of hair.

Then there’s the eldest, Alexandre. He calls her _mademoiselle_ and does so with a half-bored, half-disdainful expression that has no place on an eleven-year-old’s face. She’s been spending a lot of time with him, as she should when she’s not busy with the baby, and he’s only barely started to answer her in more than monosyllables.

Alexandre is beautiful, which isn’t really surprising when one knows his parents. He is the spitting image of his mother, down to the big blue eyes and the freckled nose (though Madame, of course, does not have a trace of spots).

He is also quiet, and reads a lot, and smiles only for his little sister. She has listened in to their games, of course, and they involve – curiously – a whole lot of barricades. It is mostly a matter of Alexandre narrating his actions to Aurelie while she sits in her baby carrier and interjects with incoherent noises.

She never interrupts them. Alexandre is homeschooled and doesn’t have friends and so, when he smiles, she stays very, very still, as if in front of a woodland creature that may be startled at any time.

Alexandre hasn’t been affectionate with her – or even welcoming – but he hasn’t been cruel, which is more than she can say for many of the children she’s minded. So his words, that one afternoon one week into her service, come as a bit of a surprise.

“You’ll have to leave soon,” he says, slouched against the door of the nursery. She’s just about to change Aurelie’s diaper, but she raises her eyes from the baby too look at Alexandre. His freckled nose is wrinkled and his brows are furrowed in thought. He’s glaring at the changing table.

“Why would you say that, Alex?” she says, and his scowl deepens. He shakes his curls and approaches her, back straight.

“Just how it is, isn’t it? I want you to teach me how to change her diapers,” Alexandre says. He never asks: he _tells_. But then, he’d been surprised when she’d _asked_ things of him, instead of _telling_ , so she supposes he’s simply never heard anything different.

She’s slightly puzzled at his request, at his grave, serious tone. She often has to remind herself that he’s eleven years old.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks. Aurelie starts fussing on the table, and she makes cooing noises to soothe her.

Alexandre is standing by the changing table now, and reaches out a hand to his sister, who immediately starts chewing on it. A dimple flashes on Alexandre’s cheek.

“Well, you’re gonna leave soon,” he repeats, unfazed. “I’m gonna be the one who sticks around, so it’s better if I know these things.” He nods to himself, solemnly.

She frowns, somewhat hurt by the boy’s words. She doesn’t know where this is coming from: she thought she was doing well.

Still, she shrugs and says, “Well, pick up a stool. You need to reach the table better.”

*

Two days later, Madame sacks her. There is an abundance of abuse thrown her way, and amidst all of it, it isn’t quite clear exactly what she’s done to make Madame angry. It might be the children’s diet, or too much attention paid to Alexandre over Aurelie (or Aurelie over Alexandre?) as well as something about M. Enjolras staring at her ass.

She packs her bags quickly, because she knows how these things go. After her outburst, Madame Enjolras is nowhere in sight, and she’s glad for this fact when she crosses the opulent foyer, ready to leave.

On the marble staircase, she catches sight of Alexandre. He’s standing with his head cocked, holding Aurelie. He looks almost sad when – for the first time since she’s been his nanny – he smiles at her.

“It wasn’t _really_ your fault, you know,” he tells her, bouncing the baby on his hip. “She would have found _something_ anyway _._ ”

It dawns on her with perfect clarity, then, as she looks at the children, alone on the stairwell. Alexandre is holding onto Aurelie and she onto him.

This has happened before. How many times has this happened before?

“Thank you for telling me that,” the nanny says. Alexandre is still smiling a sad dimpled smile for her. He presses a kiss to his sister’s cheek.

It makes her smile back. She picks up her things and moves to leave. She knows there is nothing else she can do, but she finds herself glad that she taught Alexandre how to change diapers.

“Goodbye, Mademoiselle Fantine,” he says.

Fantine looks back one more time, then waves goodbye.

On the stairwell, for once, Alexandre Enjolras looks exactly his age.

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a bit of a pickle at the beginning... should I have added Fantine to the tags? But then the plot twist wouldn't have worked!  
> The plot twist is Pasha's, by the way... which is why I'm gifting this to them uwu  
> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://seagreeneyes.tumblr.com/) if you want!


End file.
